University of Virginia Library

IV.

Then prayed the King once more, head-bare
And made himself a cross in prayer,
With outstretched arms, and forehead prone
Staid on that topmost altar-stone
Gem-charged, and cleansed from mortal taint
And strong with bones of many a Saint.
In youth his heart for God had yearned,
And Eire: now thrice his youth returned:
A child full oft, ere woke the bird
The convent's nocturns he had heard,
In old Kincora, or that isle
Which guards, thus late, its wasted pile
While winds of night the tall towers shook;
And he would peer into that Book
Which lay, lamp-lit, on eagle's wings
Wherein God's Saints in gold and blue
Stood up, and Prophets stood, and Kings;
And he the Martyrs knew,
And Maids, and Confessors each one,
And—tabernacled there in light—
That blissful Virgin enough bright
To light a burnt-out sun.
The blazoned Letters well he kenned
That stood like gateways keeping ward,
Before the Feast-Days set, to guard
Long ways of wisdom without end:
He knew the music notes black-barred
And music notes, like planted spears,
Whereon who bends a fixed regard
The gathering anthem hears
Like wakening storms 'mid pines that lean
Ere sunrise o'er some dusk ravine.—
The thoughts that nursed his youth, that hour
Were with his age, and armed with power.